


Trouble With Mr. Way

by GsSecretPornStash



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: D/s, F/M, Gags, Kinky, Mr. Way - Freeform, Punishment, Smut, Teacher/Student, face fucking, im such a sinner hhh kill me, possible underage implications depending on your interpretation, professor!gerard, teacher!gerard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 21:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6255595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GsSecretPornStash/pseuds/GsSecretPornStash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Way strides up to your desk as the rest of the class shuffled to pack up their stuff. "Stay after class," he says, dropping a hand-written excuse for the rest of your classes onto your desk, "We need to discuss your behavior in this class."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble With Mr. Way

Mr. Way strides up to your desk as the rest of the class shuffled to pack up their stuff. "Stay after class," he says, dropping a hand-written excuse for the rest of your classes onto your desk, "We need to discuss your behavior in this class."

You blush slightly and adjust your uniform plaid tartan skirt, hoping that Mr. Way doesn't keep you too late; you had been wanting to see a new movie in town after school. But, at the same time, a different, darker sort of hope inches its way into your mind--the hope that Mr. Way does keep you, for a very, very long time. After all, Mr. Way is undeniably the most attractive teacher you've ever had, if not the most attractive man you've seen in general. In his crisp black dress shirt and pants with a snug waistcoat and striped tie contrasting his beautiful pale skin, you couldn't imagine protesting too much to being kept in the classroom with him.

Mr. Way stands leaning on his arm by his desk at the front of the classroom as the rest of your class filters out, giving him distracted goodbyes as they aim to get out of the room as quickly as possible to their freedom. Instead of turning immediately to you as you had expected, Mr. Way ignores you, turning to the door and locking it shut.

You fidget uncomfortably, bringing your bag with you to stand near his desk.

"You've been bad lately, Y/N," Mr. Way says lightly, moving to pull the tab on the blinds of each of the boxy windows facing into the courtyard/lunch area of your school. "Skipping class, consistently low grades, and a generally disruptive attitude..." he lists as each of the blinds snap shut. It was impossible NOT to check out his ass when he reached up to pull one of the higher tabs.

"...for lack of a better word," he says and turns around, catching you staring, and by his expression, clearly noting the direction of your stare.

You pull the hem of your skirt a little lower and avoid eye contact.

"You and I both know that we've tried almost everything to correct this behavior," he says, walking towards you, and you continue to look down guiltily. "We've tried detention, we've tried suspension, we've tried counseling..." He stops in front of you. "I can only see one way to get the message through your head." He brings a hand to your chin, his fingers startlingly cold, and lifts your head up gently so that your eyes meet his. You feel your heart beating wildly as you stare at his beautiful face. He raises an eyebrow in question, looking almost hesitant, and a thought flashes through your head: This is it.

You nod, slowly but firmly, and he releases your chin.

"You've been very bad. And you are to do exactly what I say, okay?" He says, giving you one last chance to back out.

You clear your throat slightly, "I understand, Mr. Way."

His eyes darken immediately.

"Bend over my desk. Now." he commands, and you hurry to comply, dropping your bag and resting on your forearms on his desk, facing the rows of empty students desks. You can feel the fabric of your skirt riding up slightly.

You hear Mr. Way moving behind you, feel his hands tracing tantalizingly down your sides to your hips before he pushes one hand on your lower back until you fall onto your chest on his desk without your arms supporting you. You hear a rustle of fabric and when you crane your head to look, Mr. Way swats the top of your thigh, making you jump.

"Don't move," he scolds, and reaches around you to reveal his striped tie, which he pushes into your mouth and ties behind your head--an effective gag.

"There should still be people walking around at this hour," Mr. Way says, "wouldn't want them hearing what a whore you are for me."

Several seconds pass where you feel nothing and can hear very little until you feel Mr. Way's breath on your thighs and his hands pulling your panties down, the drag of lace on overheated skin tantalizingly slow.

"My, my," Mr. Way tuts, "Look how wet you are for me. Already. Slut." Suddenly his tongue is there, licking a stripe between your folds, and you gasp, but the sound is caught by the gag. Your legs still quiver, and Mr. Way slaps the same part of your thigh. You hear more rustling.

"Now, you take what I give to you," he says, and without any warning, he plunges himself into your tight wet heat. Your noises are concealed by the gag, but Mr. Way lets out a pleased hum, adjusting his hips until he's all the way inside you. You can feel the fabric of his waistcoat against your bare ass, where he pushed your schoolgirl skirt out of the way.

He hesitates very little before he's thrusting all the way in and out of you, hands on your hips to pull you back to meet him as your hands scramble to find a place to hold on the edges of the desk. The desk drawers rattle, and you realize that despite the gag, anyone walking by at the moment would have no doubts about what was going on inside. The sensation was so much--too much almost, with the gag just slightly too tight and restricting your breathing just so, Mr. Way's strong grip on your hips sure to leave bruises, the almost painful friction of your chest on the desk, and of course Mr. Way's cock, thick and warm and buried inside of you, hitting all the right spots and making your toes curl.

"Don't cum." He commands, slapping both of your thighs but not stopping his thrusts. You try to whimper, but of course no sound escapes. Mr. Way undoes the gag, and immediately you gasp for air and from the pleasure, the sound turning into a moan, "Mr. Way!"

He fucks you harder, and before another sound could be released, he shoves two of his long fingers into your mouth. You feel spit dribbling down your chin and imagine how filthy you must look at that very moment.

"Fuck, look at you," Mr. Way says, as if reading your thoughts, "Bent over for me, so good. Such a little slut. Such a little whore." You moan around his fingers at that, and he reminds you not to cum once again, but you can barely take it anymore. There's already so much tension coiled in your stomach, and you know it'll be any second before you're coming all over his cock.

He lifts his other hand from your hips and presses down on your neck, cutting of your breathing further and going all out, fucking you relentlessly into the table. There's no way you can last any longer.

"Fuck!" you moan out, and with that you're milking him in your juices.

He pulls out and releases you, and you can feel your cum dripping down your thighs as you struggle to catch your breath. There are a few seconds of worrying silence before Mr. Way tuts again, chuckling darkly.

"I thought I told you not to cum, you fucking whore. I guess I'll have to punish you now," he says nonchalantly. He pauses, then--"Get down on your knees in front of me. I'm gonna fuck your pretty little whore mouth." You moan and nearly trip over your wobbly knees in a rush to do as he asks.

You see him again for the first time since he told you to bend over the table from your knees, and he has his clothes still on, apart from his pants and boxers shoved down his thighs to free his thick throbbing cock, which is hanging right in front of your face.

"Fuck, you're wearing lip gloss, aren't you?" he curses. His hair is disheveled and his face flushed, although his expression is controlled as you make eye contact and he shoves his dick into your mouth until it hits the back of your throat. You gag around him, instinctive tears springing in your eyes, and he tangles his fingers in your hair, forcing himself down further and further with each thrust as he fucks your mouth carelessly. Your lipgloss leaves a pinkish shimmer on his cock and is likely smearing all over your face, and you understand why he reacted upon noticing it.

Your eyes flutter closed as you concentrate on relaxing your throat and rubbing your tongue on the underside of his heavy cock.

"Fuck," he curses again, and you can feel him throbbing inside of you, close to coming. You hear his harsh breaths through his nose and his grip tightens in your hair, pulling. You whimper around his dick and he moans.

"You're gonna swallow every bit of my cum. Every fucking bit. Like the little fucking naughty whore that you are," he chokes out. You pucker your cheeks, sucking on the head of his cock, and he swears violently, pulling out all the way as he cums in your open mouth, all over your tongue and some on your cheeks until his orgasm has subsided. You swallow, the warm salty cum sliding down your completely wrecked throat. You look up at him, darting your tongue out to get the cum that landed on your cheek and chin.

"Fuck," he swears weakly one last time, lifting a hand out to pull you up and wiping your sweaty hair from your brow. He gives you a searching look, and for a split second he looks concerned, before you send him a small smile and his face becomes controlled once more. He smirks, clearing his throat and turning away from you, redoing his pants.

"That'll be all, Y/N," he says, "I hope you've learned your lesson this time." You nod in what you hope is a convincing manner and turn to pick up your bag.

"You may go now. Oh, and I'll be keeping these," he says, putting your lace panties away into one of his desk drawers. You pull your skirt down lower, sure to cover everything, and mutter, "Thank you, Mr. Way."

You see yourself out, not missing Mr. Way's appreciative look, and close the door behind you.

You definitely don't have time for that movie now, but you can't quite say you care at the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment what you think and/or any requests! I'll write pretty much anything!


End file.
